


we all start as strangers

by orphan_account



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Blind Date, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Oops, ha jk but seriously, identity theft, jack just came in for a goodass burger and now he has a soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 08:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I’m Jack, by the way; I don’t know if our mutual friend told you.”Long brown hair swings side-to-side. “He didn’t,” he says, finally walking back to Jack, long legs encased in black skinny jeans eating up the short distance in three strides. “Just told me you’d be wearing a Blink shirt.”Jack has honestly never been happier with his love for blink-182 than in this moment. Also, he’s never been so happy for his habit of only doing laundry once literally everything in his wardrobe had been worn more than twice; this shirt was the only one left with no distinct stain or odor or too many wrinkles to be bothered with.“I’m Alex.”





	we all start as strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, I found this in my "WIPs fucking finish them" documents folder and it was written up to a point, but not finished, so I added the ending and decided to post it so it could crossover to the "finally fucking complete" folder, so if the ending is lackluster to you at all, it's because I completely forgot the actual direction I intended to send this in over three years ago. Oops?

The moment Jack's teeth sink into the burger, juicy and flavorful with just the right amount of grease dripping down onto his plate, two things happen.  
   
The first thing: Jack lets out the most sinful moan he may have ever made in his life, his eyes rolling in pleasure as the tastes hit his tongue, his immense enjoyment of the food more than clear to all of his fellow patrons.  
   
As for the second...  
   
"Hey, hi, um... I think I'm supposed to be meeting you? Tell me I'm right because I really don't want to have the build up the courage to ask someone else." Straight, white teeth and twinkling brown eyes are shining down at his, the smile almost bright enough to make Jack want to close his eyes in defense, shield them with his arm until the blinding effect fades away. He doesn't have the chance to embarrass himself in those ways, though, because even as he stares, the smile is losing its brightness, going shy and embarrassed. "Oh my god. So... you're not him. Okay. Right, okay, I’m really sorry I bothered you,” the cute stranger mumbles, cheeks red as he turns to walk away, to go somewhere Jack may never see him again.

There’s only one option, Jack decides. (He’s always had a problem with impulse control and not thinking things through; today is obviously no different.)

“No, hey, wait,” he calls out, one hand reaching towards the other man as if to catch him, stop him from leaving, despite him being nearly ten feet away already; his other hand is still clutching his burger (it’s a _damn_ good burger, alright, fuck off). The boy freezes, the fingers of his left hand nervously tapping the side of his thigh as he stands there, seemingly debating whether to turn back around and face Jack. Jack continues, the lie forming in his mind just milliseconds before it rolls off his tongue. “You are meeting me, actually,” Jack says, making an effort to sound a bit sheepish as he adds, “I was just… I didn’t realize you would be so beautiful; you had me a bit speechless for a moment, that’s all.” It’s a stab in the dark that the man who was obviously _actually_ supposed to be meeting this brown-eyed beauty of a man didn’t know what he looked like, considering he mistook Jack for his own date, but Jack is a gambling man and he’s all-in on this one.

The stranger slowly, cautiously, begins to turn back around, fingers still _tap-tap-tapping_ away on his outer thigh. “Really?” he asks, tone suspicious. His lovely face is twisted in uncertainty as he stares at Jack, still not fully turned.

Jack offers a crooked smile. “‘Really’, as in I really am the one you’re meeting or ‘really’, as in did you really make me speechless with how beautiful you are? Because the answer to both of those is ‘yes’. More ‘fucking hell, _yes_ ’ for the second, but you get the point.”

A small smile spreads slowly over pink, plump lips. “Oh,” he says, quiet, a breathless little sound of laughter escaping him.

Jack is _enthralled_.

“I’m, um, I’m sorry,” the stranger says, the hand not still tapping at his leg reaching up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “About earlier, I mean, with the rambling. I’ve just, like, never done this type of thing before, but my friend – well, your friend, too, I guess – said that he thought we’d be a really great match, so… And I’m rambling again, and not even telling you anything he probably didn’t already tell you.”

Jack smiles again, a full one this time. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “You were nervous; it’s fine. I am, too.” There’s a fluttering in his stomach, soft little butterfly wings, and a terse voice in his mind telling him to stop this charade now before the pretty-eyed stranger figures out he’s lying.

He tells it to shut the fuck up.

“You can sit, you know,” Jack offers, grinning and waving his free hand to the bench seat across from him. “Don’t want you standing through our entire first date.” A laugh is rewarded to Jack, the sound like wind chimes in the light summertime wind. “I’m Jack, by the way; I don’t know if our mutual friend told you.”

Long brown hair swings side-to-side. “He didn’t,” he says, finally walking back to Jack, long legs encased in black skinny jeans eating up the short distance in three strides. “Just told me you’d be wearing a Blink shirt.”

Jack has honestly never been happier with his love for blink-182 than in this moment. Also, he’s never been so happy for his habit of only doing laundry once literally everything in his wardrobe had been worn more than twice; this shirt was the only one left with no distinct stain or odor or too many wrinkles to be bothered with.

“I’m Alex.”

Alex. _Alex_. Jack could easily hear himself saying that name for the rest of his life – or, hopefully sooner, while in bed, all breathy and low and ending with a rough groan as they–

_No, no. Bad Jack! Get to know him first. Calm down. Steady, boy._

“Well, Alex,” rumbles Jack, the syllables rolling off his tongue as smoothly as he’d imagined they would. “How about we order you some food and get to know each other? Their burgers are fucking _orgasmic_.”

*

They talk about _everything_. From the most trivial information – their birthdays (“I can’t believe you’re six months older than I am.”), where they were born and grew up (“Essex? Isn’t that the place where everyone leaves with an STD?”) – to the more important – their families (“I’m sorry you had to go through that, ’Lex…”), their most private dreams (“I’m sure you have a great voice; sing me a line, sometime, and I’ll fangirl with the best of them, trust me.”), and, the all-important: their middle names (“It’s my father’s name; Alexander William sounds like you should be in line for the crown.”).

They talk for _hours_ until, at nearly half-past ten, the owners’ daughter comes out to politely shoo them, smiling at the way they both look at the time in surprise and waving off their apologies with a laugh, ponytail swinging as she bounces away. (They leave a hefty tip, guilty for taking up space for more possible customers and for taking so much of her time.)

Once out the door, Alex looks up at him to say goodbye, smiling, and Jack doesn’t ever want him to leave.

“Can I walk you home?” Jack cuts in before Alex can say anything. He holds his breath, watching Alex battle with himself, his teeth gnawing on his chapped lower lip, and he adds a quick, “I just want to make sure you get there, safely. That’s all. Or, if you’d rather, I’ll get you an Uber.” He hopes, somewhat desperately (and since when has he ever been so desperate to spend time with someone he isn’t sexually involved with?), that Alex chooses the former.

Finally, after a seemingly tough internal struggle, Alex nods, releasing his lip and smiling again. “Yeah,” he eventually answers aloud. “I’d like that – for you to walk me, I mean.” Jack doesn’t do a fist pump, but it’s a near-thing. Happiness automatically overwhelms Jack, an ear-to-ear grin spreading wide.

They walk in the direction of Alex’s apartment, their hands touching every so often as they stay close to one another; about ten minutes into their journey, Jack takes the plunge and brushes his hand against Alex’s again, this time tangling their cold fingers together before they can pull back, sliding his thumb over Alex’s in a soothing, circular motion. He doesn’t miss the way Alex ducks his head or the soft smile on his face as he looks down at their clasped hands.

(They pass Jack’s place barely halfway to their destination, but Jack doesn’t mention it, content to walk with this beautiful boy, this pretty-eyed angel that was practically gift-wrapped and plopped into his lap at the most unexpected of times.)

Their shared silence ends as they reach Alex’s apartment building, their hands still woven together. “This is me,” Alex murmurs, almost regretfully; Jack knows how he feels.

“Well, then.” Jack shuffles his feet, anxious in a way he can’t ever remember being with anyone else. He really doesn’t want to screw this – whatever it may be – up. _Pretty sure you’ve probably already done that by, y’know, lying to him._ Jack gives his head a quick shake, reaching up with the hand not holding Alex’s to rub it through his hair, the single platinum-blonde streak sticking up in full view now. “I’d like…” He trails off, unsure of his next words. “I really enjoyed tonight,” he finally settles on. “Maybe… you’d like to do it again, sometime?”

Alex laughs, relief evident in the sound. “I didn’t know if you would really want to,” he admits, the bit of tension Jack could see draining out of him. “Just, like – here,” he says, letting go of Jack’s hand (to Jack’s disappointment) and offering up his phone after he touches a few options, the “New Contact” screen already open. “Give me your number,” Alex explains, “and I’ll text you so you can have mine, too. Then, I guess we can, like, go from there.”

Jack double- and triple-checks to make certain his information is correct, and returns the phone to Alex, who pockets it. They stand there, a bit awkwardly, for a few moments, until Jack can no longer take it and, slowly, telegraphing his moves very obviously in case Alex doesn’t want it, leans in, cupping a wind-chilled cheek in his hand and tilting his head just so, smiling when Alex does the same. Their breaths are mingling, soft clouds of warm air joining together as their noses touch, lips a hair’s breadth away from each other–

–and Alex’s phone sounds off, a loud and shrill ringtone that, in the otherwise silent night, startles them both enough to make them jump, knocking their foreheads against the other’s, each letting out pained grunts and stumbling back a half-step. They burst into laughter and by the time they let it die down, Alex’s phone has gone off twice more, making them crack up more each time. A single _ding_ follows the last call a few moments later, probably signaling a message, Jack assumes, Alex reaching into his pocket to finally retrieve it, both boys still wiping hysterical tears from their eyes. “I should probably call him back,” Alex manages through the few giggles still bubbling up.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, nodding. He leans down again, nudging his nose against Alex’s as he touches a gentle kiss to the cheek he’d been previously holding. “Use that number, Gaskarth,” Jack playfully demands, heart beating at twice its normal speed when Alex gives his reassurance that he will.

Jack watches Alex make his way up the steps to the apartment building’s door, the shorter man fumbling with his keys and his phone, eventually managing to unlock the gate. Jack turns, ready to make his way back the way they came to his own apartment building, when Alex calls out to him.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll introduce you to my friend Rian next time.”

Jack tilts his head. “Rian?”

Alex grins. “The friend whose friend was supposed to show up for our blind date.” While Jack’s jaw drops, gaping like a fish out of water, Alex adds, “You’re lucky you’re cute, Barakat,” and turns around to go into his building.

A few minutes later, Jack’s still standing on the sidewalk in front of Alex’s building when his phone _dings_ with a text. 

_Same time, same place, Saturday night. Rian’s looking forward to meeting you. ;)_


End file.
